Reaching Out
by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: The best things in life aren't things.


**Disclaimer:**** Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Anything you don't recognize came from my deluded brain. Thanks for reading!**

**Reaching Out**

I think my heart stopped beating the moment our eyes connected. I'm sure of it. You see, I had never felt like I did that day. Of course, a few years later when I got married and my children were born I felt it again. It's memorable for me because that day we became _connected_. We weren't _just_ friends anymore.

We became _more_.

When I woke-up I knew something was wrong. Normally, I woke-up to Gran making noise around the house. The floorboards always squeaked underneath her weight as she busied around the kitchen cooking breakfast. That day it was silent. There was no squeaking of floorboards or banging of pots and pans. Instead, there was just one screech of a chair and an intake of breath then a loud sob that made me jump out of bed. I didn't even pause to slip my feet into a pair of slippers.

Without a second thought my feet rushed through the house, making unnecessary noise until I reached Gran, wrapping my arms around her shaking body.

"Gran?" I questioned hoarsely, unable to go on. It was my parents, of course it was. That's what it had to be. My parents were finally gone. Madness had consumed them and now they were…they were…dead.

Wordlessly, Gran shifted underneath my hold. Her hands reached for the _Daily Prophet_ that was on the rickety wooden table infront of her, unfolded. She pointed a shaking finger to the front page, a sorrowful look on her face.

"Fire in…Death Eaters…seven injured…" I paused, unable to read more as the picture of the black-and-white flames ingrained itself in my mind.

The War was over but still a year later tensions ran high. The Aurors were doing everything in their power to capture all the Death Eaters and other followers of Voldemort. In the dead of the night people were being injured, fights were behind held in dark alleys and pain racked every wizard and Muggle around the world.

"It's alright Gran," I whispered, embracing her again. "It's alright. You're safe. _We're_ safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you," I promised, squeezing her tighter.

She sniffled and nodded her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I want to go down there Neville. We'll bring some food…Tom…he was my friend…I want to…go down there…Neville," she whispered, gripping my hand, "I want to go down there."

She repeated the sentence over and over again, until she found her strength.

It wasn't even light outside yet.

* * *

"Gran, you be careful!" I shouted worriedly for the third time, shielding my eyes from the sun and squinting at my grandmother who waved her hand at me.

She had found a new found energy inside of her once the sun had risen. Instead of continuing her crying—I myself found my tears mixing into her satin nightcap—she quickly busied herself with making as many muffins as she could.

"Neville!" I turned quickly at my name, my blue eyes falling on a disheveled looking Harry Potter. There was soot on his nose and his eyes were heavy. It looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.

"Harry," I said, reaching my hand out to shake his. Behind him were Ron and Hermione, both were covered with soot here and there, arguing with each other.

"Cal you believe this?" Hermione asked, shaking her head with disbelief. "I know I can't! When I find out who did this—" she started, face flushed with anger. Ron rubbed her back and shushed her.

"They attacked my family's store as well," he said, face flushed. "I was this close to getting them, I was! If it hadn't been for—"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smacking Ron lightly on the arm, making Harry chuckle tiredly.

They're so in love it's a bit sickening.

"Oh please! They knocked a rubbish bin over which _you_ tripped on. You're lucky Percy was around—"

Ron huffed, ears a deep red, and crossed his arms against his chest. He glared at Hermione, the two forgetting that there were others around them.

"_Percy_?" he said, horrified. "Percy didn't save me. Will you stop saying that Hermione? He was in the loo…I told you that's what we're going to tell people."

Harry and I both snorted, turning away from them and giving each other a knowing look. Some people, no matter what, would never change. Ron Weasley was one of those people.

Meekly, I patted Harry on the back, making him sigh loudly. He looked pale, worn down. Between trying to restore Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and other places he was starting to look sick and older than he should have. His eyes rarely shined unless Ginny was around.

"Some days I think it's useless," he admitted quietly. "Some days I think it's pointless. They attacked…no, they _murdered_ all the owls in the Owl Emporium. Who does that?" he questioned, staring at the destruction around us.

Several buildings were charred, windows were missing and so were a few doors.

I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn't surprised. Murdering animals wasn't beneath them.

"The same people that murdered our friends. The same people that tore our families apart. He's gone Harry. He's dead. Now we just have to deal with the aftermath and the people that still believe in his cause," I murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

He nodded, hanging his head and mumbling something about finding Ginny, walking off to leave me to my own thoughts. I hadn't let myself properly think about things, really contemplate what had happened once the war ended. After I killed Nagini everything became a blur. The deaths of my friends jumbled together into this one big pit of painful depression that I couldn't deal with alone. Besides, my focus was on Gran. I didn't have time to grieve.

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths because I was close to losing my cool. The destruction around me was too much to handle. Hogwarts I understood, the final battle had been fought and won there but here? Diagon Alley?

And that's when it happened. I opened my eyes to finally face the destruction head on around me. To examine the burned down Flourish and Blotts, the still boarded up Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour that someone had foolishly tried to burn down yesterday even though the owner was dead.

I nearly choked as I opened my eyes. A sob was ready to escape from my lips but I paused as the pain suddenly became overwhelming and then vanished as quickly as it came.

Just like that I was frozen on my spot as if something or someone had hit me with a sticking charm. I couldn't lift my arm. I couldn't move my leg. I gulped and then took a deep breath, trying to calm my running mind.

"Neville."

At the sound of my name I was brought back to reality, the weight of the world crashing on my shoulders.

"Luna," I said, giving her a small hug. She smiled at me, one of her odd smiles that she could only pull off. Her radish earrings swayed as she cocked her head to the side, grey eyes examining me.

"You look healthy," she said, giving me a once-over.

Uncomfortable, I tugged at my blue jumper and nodded curtly. I really didn't know if that was an insult or a compliment but I really couldn't be bothered.

"Have you seen Harry?" she questioned. "I think his brain is muddled with Wrackspurts. It's a shame…" she murmured, eyes glazing over.

I shook my head, not really sure what to say. "Wrackspurts…right." I still didn't know what Nargles were after all these years. Wrackspurts were a whole other conversation I couldn't comprehend. I wasn't really interested in finding out if they were real either.

"Do you hear that?" I questioned, cupping my ear with my hands.

She shook her head, blonde hair swishing from side to side. "No."

"I think my Gran is calling me," I said guiltily. "Gran, is that you? Gran! Are you looking for me? I'm right here! I'm coming!" I shouted, putting more attention than necessary on myself.

Luna craned her neck and turned her head from left to right to hear what I was pretending to hear.

"I don't hear anything," she said, puzzled.

I nodded my head and scratched the back of my neck quickly. I never was one to come up with a good excuse right on the spot. "Ugh, she's worried about the muffins she made. They're kind of…covered in dirt," I mumbled pathetically. "Try not to eat one if she comes by…might have you on the toilet for the rest of the day. Well, I've got to be off Luna."

She didn't say anything as I gave her a half hug and shuffled quickly towards the direction Gran had gone off earlier. I didn't bother making conversation with anyone else as I passed. Mr. Weasley was throwing his arms in the air and shouting about how he was sure the Malfoy's were involved and they couldn't be trusted. Harry was rolling his eyes next to him.

I found Gran sitting outside The Leaky Cauldron, well, what was left of it anyway. She was a ghostly white as if she had been shocked all the way down to her core, shaking slightly, gripping her basket.

"Gran?" I whispered lightly. Startled, she whipped her head up quickly, the vulture on her hat poking me in the eye. "Are you crying?" I asked quietly.

She sniffled and handed me the basket that was housing her blueberry muffins, wiping at her eyes aggressively. "Tom…he used to like my muffins," she mumbled, wiping at some dirt on a rock. "He always wanted the recipe but I refused. I don't know why," she said, hiccupping slightly. I sighed and patted her on the back with my free hand. "I can't go in there," she said, eyeing the basket and then the entrance to the Leaky.

I nodded and without saying a word, started walking the short distance from Gran to the entrance, only to be hit with the strong smell of burned wood. The inside was much worse than the outside. Stools were thrown to the floor. Some were covered in soot and the ceiling broke off in some sections, wood paneling hanging freely, forcing me to duck in certain places.

One hand gripped Gran's blue basket while the other grazed the tables that were left, rubbing the soot away to see if I could make the wood appear as it once had before.

I continued to walk around, unalarmed by the ruined state that the entire place was in but almost shrieked as a blonde girl scrubbed at a countertop vigorously, cursing under her breath.

"Damn!" she shouted, dropping her dirty rag to the floor. "Damn!" she shouted again, a slight sob racking her frail body.

I coughed to get her attention. She jumped and turned around, quickly wiping at the angry tears that were falling from her blue eyes and down her dirty face.

I had never seen someone so painfully beautiful before.

"Hannah? Are you…" I stopped myself from asking if she was alright. She obviously wasn't. I paused, trying to think of something else to say and held up the blue basket. "Muffin?" I offered.

She chuckled and shook her head 'no.' Her blonde hair was caked with ash, making it appear darker. I'm sure her lungs were coated with it as well because she coughed a few times into her hand, lips slightly black.

My heart stopped for a second time that day. I felt frozen in place once again as she gingerly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"My Gran made them," I said, trying to make conversation and regain my composure.

She stared at me, blue eyes filled with confusion. "What?"

"T-the muffins? They were Tom's favorite apparently." At the mention of Tom, a small sob escaped her lips and she shook her head as if in pain.

I cringed and walked slowly towards her, ready to catch her if she were to fall. She was struggling to regain her composure and kept opening and closing her hand as if debating to make a fist and punch something.

"Seven injured, one dead. How could they do that? Murder him…he was nice to everyone," she whispered to herself, eyes examining the room.

I nodded my head in agreement. My stomach was in knots. It felt like someone was punching me because it seemed like I could feel the pain she was feeling. I always wondered what to tell people, what to say in situations like this. If it was me, saying that it would be 'okay' or 'he lived a good life' wouldn't be enough. It was never enough when someone mentioned my parents.

"This place was his life!" she shouted angrily. "His life and now…it's gone. He's gone. This…is my home. He gave me a job and a place to live…now it's gone." Her voice broke towards the end and she flung her arms around my neck, sobbing freely.

With my one free hand I rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. "Hannah," I said, pausing because if I screwed this up my heart would have shattered in my chest. "The best things in life aren't things," I whispered softly in her ear.

She didn't say anything but held onto me tighter, cutting off some of my air supply.

"The rooms that are destroyed, the chairs that have been burned and the food that has spoiled doesn't matter—"

She gulped, letting go of me, an angry look filling her sad blue eyes. "How can you say that?"

I shook my head and let the basket drop to the floor. The muffins were now covered with ash as they littered the floor. "Are you hurt? No. You're alive. Just because your home is gone doesn't mean your mind is. You're capable of restoring this place and asking someone to help you to get back on your feet. You're luckier compared to other people, think about that Hannah."

I stared at her nervously, ready for the backlash to come. I was certain she would scream at me or bend down and throw a muffin at my head. She sniffled and stared into my eyes, her eyes softening to show she understood what I had said.

A pale shaky hand ran through her dirty blonde hair and a small playful smirk casted a shadow on her lips.

"When did you start giving such great advice?"

Her voice was slightly hoarse and I couldn't help but blush. Thankfully it was dark in there. A slight grin appeared on my face as I stared at her. I wanted to say when I first laid eyes on you earlier in the day. When I noticed the soot in your blonde hair and the free expression on your face when you stood outside momentarily, the sun lighting you up for the world to see but the world was too preoccupied to take notice.

It was on my lips, threatening to rush out in a jumbled mess but instead I leaned forward and grabbed her small dirty hands.

"Come with me," I said, smiling shyly.

She grinned nervously and squeezed my hand. "Where?" she questioned.

I shrugged and led her towards the rundown entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. "Outside to face reality and to get some fresh air. To start living again."

She paused and squeezed my hand again for some comfort, leading _me_ outside. She was filled with a new sense of self and I smiled with pride. Something I hadn't felt since the final battle at Hogwarts.

The best things in life aren't things. No, the best things in life are people and the emotions you can share with them, the pain you can carry for them and the love you can have for them.

The best thing in my life was squeezing my hand very gently.

**Author's Note****: I have no idea where this came from honestly. This is for the 'Take My Advice Challenge' and my advice was: the best things in life aren't things.** **I don't know why but I envisioned Neville and I think it works. Sorry for another one-shot, like I've said before school is taking over my life but I'm off for a few days and figured I'd get all my challenges done and out of the way and then I'll work on my stories if I have some time. Don't forget to review, let me know what you think because it's what keeps me writing. **

**Final Edit: 24 July 2012**


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